Delightful December

December started to dry up... for a time. The first two weeks were spent finishing off at school and preparing to go to Tanzania in the middle of the month. This entailed much ordering from – and checking on the arrival of – items from Amazon, both Christmas presents from us and a lengthy list of necessities and presents on Adele’s behalf. Fortunately, everything arrived in good time. 

The packing wasn’t too bad, actually. I’d just acquired a new, larger suitcase in which everything fitted. The return journey, on the other hand, entailed one of our cabin suitcases packed carefully inside, as we had so little to bring back! Sadly, the new suitcase had a wheel removed by baggage handlers between Kilimanjaro and Heathrow – but that would be a story for January. 

Meanwhile, we fitted in a few lovely social things with friends. First off was a ‘drinky poos’ at Nicky and Richard’s, to welcome their friend Andrew who would be staying to look after the house and Maddie the dog while they were in Australia for 6 weeks. A simple ‘few drinks’ was an elaborate affair with all kinds of delicious nibbles. It was only a couple of days before they were due to leave, but Nicky spent much of the evening hovering over a hot stove and then triumphantly bearing round platters of smoked salmon, sausages, crispy Chinese spring rolls... a never-ending stream of food. As for their friends: what a marvellous group of people. Great fun and incredibly nice while being endlessly charming.  

We rolled home as late as if we had been at a dinner party... ready to host a brunch the next morning for friends Bryan and Tricia, living in St Peters and almost our nearest friends. The following weekend was tea with Kareena and then out to supper with Lis and James – such a kind couple who are always a joy to be with.  

And then... we were off to Tanzania for a couple of weeks. Just getting off the island by plane is always a bit of an adventure, wondering if weather or technical problems will delay us. But all was well. We met, briefly, friends Susie and Paul who were on the same flight, quickly catching up as we waited for our baggage, before catching the coach to Heathrow. 

It’s not simple, coming from Guernsey.  Especially travelling during the London rush hour. A walk through arrivals to find the coach stop; finding the right coach; getting off at the Central Bus Station at Heathrow; finding the lifts – and the right floor for the train to take us to Terminal 4 – and yet more walking; negotiating the strange train system, where we still needed a ticket for the train journey  (unlike the shuttle between North and South Terminals at Gatwick) and had to ensure that we didn’t end up on a train which took us into London instead; finding the right lift AND the right floor at Terminal 4, which was tricky: we squeezed in to an overcrowded lift, pushed our way out again at the next stop, slightly panicking, only to find that we were at the entrance to a car park. The next lift was completely empty.  

By the time we got to Terminal 4, Someone had almost lost his sense of humour, so I left him collapsed on a bench while I tried to locate the hotel. A few seconds later, and there was a sign saying ‘hotels’...  a longish walk down an eerie, draughty walkway took us to yet another lift which didn’t seem to want to take us anywhere – until we realised that we were pressing the button for the same floor as we were already on... it had been a Long Day. 

Yet, walking into Reception was the best part of the journey. Welcoming and airy, it opened out onto a bar and restaurant area with even a little coffee shop/snack bar as well. Everything the weary traveller could need. The room was quiet, the bed super comfortable, and there was even an actual bath; a real treat. We were quite sorry that we were leaving so early (4am for a 6.30 flight) and couldn’t take advantage of the breakfast offer. 

All quite straightforward, in the end, despite not really knowing where we were going. One of us usually looks it all up in advance, but this time it really was a journey of discovery which involved actually reading and following signs.  

It could have been worse: we didn’t actually have to ask anyone what to do, partly because as we approached the train station, a train employee was standing at the entrance handing out the free tickets necessary for going through the turnstiles. (This seemed strange at the time: it was only on the return journey that I noticed the ticket machines. The press of people had completely obscured them from view on our way out – handing out the tickets evidently saved a lot of confusion, crowding and hassle.) 

We were to travel to Amsterdam for our connecting flight to Kilimanjaro. All went well; Amsterdam was easy; the flights were mostly on time; and, generally, it was all a better experience than in 2022 where KLM was obviously suffering the effects of Covid on its staffing.  

Going through immigration was the usual lengthy process, but at least we had obtained visas online before we came, but it was not too long before we arrived in the baggage hall to collect our luggage. 

Except we couldn’t. Yet again, for the second time running, our bags did not travel with us. After filling out the forms (this time, I had the sense to take a photograph of the claim form) we emerged into a warm African night and a taxi waiting for us. 

It only took about an hour and a quarter, late in the evening, to reach the Aga Khan estate on the other side of Arusha, courtesy of the new bypass which was in the process of being built on our last visit. Another five minutes of slow, careful driving into the estate, over a potholed dirt road, and we arrived at Jonny and Adele’s bungalow. Finn, of course, had been asleep for hours but Adele was still pottering, finishing off his birthday cake for the next day. 

What a joy to be with them – such a homecoming in many ways. Not just to be with family – although that was by far the best part of our trip – but also to be back in Africa.  

The days passed with waking to a wonderful dawn chorus – there is just nothing like the sound of the birds in East Africa. Playing with Finn, leisurely breakfasts, sitting in the garden, admiring Jonny’s carefully cultivated vege patch, going swimming in the school pool. Best of all was to see how happy they all are.  

Finn is, of course, the perfect grandbaby. Bilingual in both English and Swahili, although some occasions would call for only one language to be used. For example, something that fell down was ALWAYS ‘ameanguka’. He has a repertoire of nursery rhymes, knowing the words, singing in tune and then creating his own variations. 

We did a couple of camping trips. The first was to the Enduimet game reserve on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro. Jonny’s aim is always to find somewhere remote, secluded and away from people which we largely achieved, although we were visited by an elderly Masaai while having our morning coffee break. The reserve had quite a few villages and we could hear cowbells both in the evening and early morning – they were not too far away. Birds were lovely, Kili came out in the evening and just being out in the bush was wonderful.  

From Enduimet, we went to Simba Farm for a night, camping again but eating an evening meal in the lodge. It was quite international – a large Dutch family were journeying from South Africa northwards, travelling overland for a year on their way from a stint in Dubai, as were a German couple. Interesting to see so many different places, but I have always preferred to spend time with people rather than ‘taking’ as a passing tourist. Would I do something like that, if I had my time again? I don’t know, but I don’t think so. The precious years of working in Sweden and then western Kenya are enriching in uncountable ways. The interactions, relationships and friendships are just so meaningful.. 

Another trip was to Randilen, a reserve on the edge of Tarangire Park. Again, we saw no one except for the ranger at the entrance and had the ‘campsite’ to ourselves: on the edge of a dried up river bed with an enormous fig tree in the middle, home to a huge troop of baboons and a couple of vervet monkeys. We were rewarded with a visit from elephants in the early evening as we sat quietly listening to birds and enjoying the peace and tranquillity. 

En route home, we visited the small piece of land which Jonny has bought with friends: a quiet place to come and camp, or just spend the day, with the possibility of quickly going into Tarangire for a game drive. Remote - and yet with neighbours right next door. Distances are huge in Africa, but relationships are close. 

As for animals... I lost count. Only elephants of ‘the big five’, but it seemed inconsequential. After so many years in Kenya, it was lovely to see animals but not the purpose of our visit. However, it was a delight to see dozens of giraffes; several silver-backed jackals, a relatively rare sight for us; a multitude of zebra, impala and many many Thomson’s gazelles; warthogs; and even a hinged tortoise, scuttling to safety as we waited in the midday heat for paperwork to be completed. A little aside: the long-drop toilet near the entrance had a convenient bucket full of water at the side, complete with scoop for flushing. As I looked, I saw the surface of the water moving, then something evidently swimming. A small rat desperately tried to take a gasping breath as it paddled frantically, trying to get out. Richard took pity on it, scooping it out and leaving it to recover in a sodden heap. 

Adele had already scooped up water without noticing the rodent in residence. Fortunately, she had, by habit, washed her hands thoroughly in the plastic basin outside. 

Don’t think I’ve ever encountered a drowning rat before. 

We were, of course, there for Christmas as well as Finn’s birthday: a lovely relaxed day, around 12 of us altogether, eating together and sitting on the huge verandah. 

Other highlights: walks with Finn through the estate, finding unusual birds, gazing out at the endless bush and hills in front of us. A sudden flash flood, filling the ‘korongo’ - the deep gully- that bordered the garden – roared loudly one afternoon. Driving: the little ‘tuk tuks’ zipping around, Arusha’s little taxis; huge lorries coming up from Dar-Es-Salaam; ‘piccy piccies’ riding both ways along the same hard shoulder; flocks of goats and herds of cows wandering casually throught the petrol station; going shopping at the local ‘European’ centre – we never encountered a full-on African market while we were there: no need, as everything we needed could be bought locally. And, of course, the frequent swims in the school pool. And a deep sense of joy that the family are exactly where they need to be, in a comfortable living environment and with satisfying work in a great school with wonderful colleagues. (The head seems to be second to none: professional, caring, friendly...and inspiring to work for.) 

Just one sorrow/regret: we would miss dear Byron and Lisa, still in California, by a few days. None of us could warrant the expense of changing the tickets... for us, it would have added over £1000 to the cost of our flights. Next time....#livinginhope 

The journey home was uneventful. This time, Richard flew premium economy for the comfort of his bad back while I flew a few rows behind... not ideal, but it did save a few hundred pounds that we could then use for something else. All well – apart from finding the ‘new’ case had had a wheel broken off on arrival at Heathrow. (But, as I am writing this in FEBRUARY, I am happy to report that, after a few long and carefully considered emails, KLM eventually agreed to refund me for the broken wheel AND for the binoculars which had been stolen out of one of our delayed bags. Which was unexpected, as they had been so unhelpful about cancelled flights the previous visit, blaming it all on bad weather. Which is another story... as Richard could read the pilots’ weather reports and disputed KLM’s claim... water under the bridge, or snowstorm passed by, actually.) 

 Anyway. Good to be home eventually, with Anne-Marie meeting us at the airport, a rapturous welcome from Pickle and a marvellously clean house. 

We unpacked quickly; hopped in the shower; and went off to Belinda’s New Year’s Eve party for an hour or so. Good to reconnect with friends. 

2023 done and dusted. 

 

 

  

Nervous in November

 November saw Richard getting nervous about my blood pressure… so I was nervous, with the result that our blood pressure monitor began to show some very high and alarming readings. It was a very old monitor – at least 15 years – and not an approved type. In the end, I borrowed one from dear Sarah (who insisted on measuring my BP anyway, in efficient nurse fashion) and found that, in fact, I had nothing to be concerned about and all was fine. Bought a more modern and up to date device, and that was that. Phew.

But the real concern of the month was Storm Ciaran, due to make landfall the night of November 1^st. For a week,  both the news and the weather reports showed experts carefully tracking the storm, trying to predict where it might make landfall.  The radar pictures were quite astounding.

We prepared, along with the rest of the Channel Islands. Unusually, Guernsey and Jersey were named frequently in the weather reports and we knew that we would bear the brunt of the weather. Several rounds of the garden, stowing away all loose objects, moving tables and pot plants into shelter – or even inside the house – and even moving the motorhome to a more sheltered position, tucked in the L of the house to protect it from the wind. We had really no idea of how bad it would be.

And bad it was. I slept through most of the wind overnight, using ear plugs, but was awakened around 4.30 am by the wind buffeting the house, roaring around it in a way we had rarely experienced before. Rain lashed the trees, the storm stripping them of their leaves and tearing at branches. Opposite, our neighbour had a dying conifer down, inconveniently straddling the hedge across half of the road, with the result that all traffic had to slow down and stop in order to avoid it. The neighbour’s hedge was/is in dire need of cutting in any case…

At 8 am our neighbour next door, Catherine, spoke on the radio of how she and her husband had been awake for much of the night, listening to tiles falling off the roof. (Her children were unconcerned: two cool teenage boys and their younger sister, who slept through most of it!) We found shards of slate in our garden and pieces of tile on the roof, even though the tiles had come off the roof on the opposite side: it was almost as if a mini tornado had hit, as the direction that the tiles had been carried made no sense. A week later, I even found a whole, large slate lying in the middle of a bush at the back of the garden, well away from the neighbours’ property.

The storm raged all day as we all sheltered indoors. Schools had been closed and the public urged not to travel, as the emergency services and the tree surgeons worked to clear the 70 or so trees which had fallen all over the island. We watched with sadness as television reports showed how a whole estate on Jersey had been destroyed and families made homeless. We felt we had got off very lightly in comparison…

It took a little time the next morning to sweep up the patio, littered with leaves and berries, and tidy up the front drive. We helped our neighbour remove much of the tree – although there is still a hefty chunk peeping out of the hedge.

We began, also, to prepare for our trip to Tanzania at Christmas. I spent some time, as an avid recycler, in sourcing a second-hand (but barely used) suitcase to replace an old one which had ripped the last time we travelled. As a bonus, I found a pair of very comfortable winter boots in my favourite make for comfort, and two kitchen bar stools to replace ours. Cheap 7 years ago, they had begun to wobble somewhat dangerously and we knew that it wouldn’t be long before they broke. Plus a few visits to the toy department of our charity shop for items for Finn….

And Richard spent his days up in the loft, installing modern insulation – at the expense of his back, which became very sore… (and is why we had to travel Premium Economy to New Zealand…)

The month moved on, the weeks full - as was the bonfire pit. The rear of the garden is prone to flooding and we soon found that the pump would be put to good use as Guernsey endured three times the average amount of daily rainfall within a few hours...

It carried on!

Awesome October

The moon through the trees.

The night sky from our front doot.

Weather report first, of course. The month began with a continuation of the Indian summer we experienced in September. It was comfortable to go swimming – the sea still at around 18 degrees – and I managed swims of at least 500 metres 5 times a week.

The month was busy with catching up with friends: Wendy and Nicholas from Glasgow, Margaret and Heather visiting from Rugby, a long video call with Kim and Dave up in the Borders and of course the local catch ups with friends I hadn’t seen over the summer. A chamber choir concert – a colleague and other acquaintances – was a different experience in Castel church. A few days of supply teaching at the local state school, after my unexpected full-time stint at Beechwood came to an end and of course continuing to get the garden under control before the winter.

I have also started hosting ladies’ breakfasts again for friends and acquaintances from church. I have  been astonished at how popular they are…It’s always fun, giving me the opportunity too to bake and is a joy and encouragement to gather together.

But, apart from swimming, the Rugby World Cup dominated the month. I put significant matches in the calendar but managed to see most of the matches, especially after the pool stage was completed. I had one delightful encounter when on supply. A nine year old boy came up to me, peering at my earrings proudly sporting the All Black logo of the silver fern (I wore them constantly throughout the tournament).

“Are those NEW ZEALAND rugby team earrings?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied, unprepared for what was to come next.

“That’s BAD. I support South Africa.”

“I’m very sorry,” I whispered back. “And congratulations for yesterday.” The South African rugby team had just won a quarter-final the day before. He grinned. I’ve known him for a couple of years now, and he’s still one of my favourite children in the school.

The final result – New Zealand versus South Africa – was disappointing, especially when a wonderful All Blacks try was disallowed on a very minor technical issue. Several weeks later, match officials admitted privately that they had been wrong… but anyway. The All Blacks, despite being one man down – a red card which, again, might not have been upgraded from a yellow card had the referee on field been allowed to make his own decisions – lost by only one point. They had played bravely with only 14 men for most of the match.

There was no doubt in my mind which was the better team but, to be fair, the South Africans needed to win, so desperate were they for their country’s national pride. The All Blacks, as always, were the epitome of good and gracious losers. What an inspirational team ethic they have, standing head and shoulders above the others.

It was somewhat of an anti-climax when it all finished… but the Christmas movies were about to start…